Heirs of Falcon Point by Traci Hunter Abramson

Author:Traci Hunter Abramson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: World War II;Lang family;lost;Nazis;Austria;power;fiction;flee;children;choice;too late;ripped apart;dynasty;Falcon Poing;no alone;treasure;hidden;heritage;family;suspense;Love;Truth;war;take it back;Heirs;Clean;LDS
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2021-09-28T17:15:26+00:00

Chapter 26

Cole tapped on his computer keys until he found what he was looking for. He supposed he shouldn’t be hacking into the employee database of a London-based design firm without proper authorization, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know who was working on the remodel of Falcon Point. With any luck, someone on site would be an easy source of information.

After several minutes of searching, he uncovered the list of the design team headed up by Beckett Campbell. He kept reading. Rudolph Gruber, the general contractor. Tanja Mueller, lead designer. Cole jotted down the names before checking into the personnel files. He scanned through the photos and personal information for each. The image of a junior designer popped up, and Cole paused. Anna Cavendish’s blue eyes were the same shade and shape as his own. Strange. He’d never seen anyone with quite that color of blue outside of his family.

Cole checked the time and set aside his notes. As much as he wanted to keep researching, he had a visitor to prepare for. He moved into the kitchen, wiped down his counters, and disposed of the last week’s takeout containers. When the pizza box didn’t fit into the trash can, he slid it into the oven. No one would see it there.

When his grandfather said he would put him in touch with his banker friend, he had expected a text message with her phone number, not an appointment to meet at his apartment. Most likely, his grandfather would receive a report on Cole’s living conditions within an hour of the woman’s leaving his apartment.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he muttered to himself. He finished wiping down the kitchen as a knock sounded. He tossed the dishrag into the sink and checked his phone to view the feed from the surveillance camera he had planted above his door.

The woman appeared to be in her late twenties. Expressive green eyes, deep auburn hair, gorgeous skin. This was his grandfather’s friend? At best, Cole had expected some rotund woman in her fifties. At worst, he worried the friend might come with a set of hearing aids.

Cole pocketed his phone and pulled the door open.

“Cole Bridger?” The woman’s accent tagged her as a fellow American.

“That’s me. You’re from the States.”

“Yes. I’m Isabelle Roberts.” Her head tilted slightly, and curiosity and humor peeked out from behind her professional exterior. “Your grandfather asked me if I could help you with something.”

“Please, come in.” Cole motioned her inside and led her into the living room.

As soon as Isabelle sat down, she said, “Mr. Bridger wasn’t very specific about what kind of help you needed.”

“I’m trying to identify the owner of an estate here in Austria.” Cole sat beside her. “I hoped, with your experience in banking, you might be able to steer me in the right direction.”

“That should be easy enough.” Isabelle opened her oversized bag and withdrew her laptop. “Perhaps it would be easier to work at your kitchen table.”

“It might be, if I had two chairs.

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